


Temporary Reassignment

by penguingal, Schnaucl (Onetrackmind)



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Incest, M/M, comment porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-18
Updated: 2006-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguingal/pseuds/penguingal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onetrackmind/pseuds/Schnaucl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie kisses Don, who reacts badly.  But when Charlie tries to stay away Don starts having dreams that force him to confront what he really wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temporary Reassignment

Don threw clothes into his bag, barely noticing what he was pulling out of drawers. He figured if he packed enough then it wouldn't matter if he'd forgotten something. Besides, he could always pick up the sundries when he got to Washington. He didn't turn his head toward the figure in the doorway, though he could feel his eyes on every line of his body. "It's just temporary, Charlie. A few weeks. I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone." His voice was strained, unnatural, but he hardly thought he could be blamed under the circumstances.  
  
Charlie's arms were tightly crossed, hands clutching biceps, misery and tension in every line. How could he have been so fucking stupid? "Don--" he stopped, cleared his throat as though that would dissolve the lump caused by emotion, smooth over the sudden roughness. "Please don't do this. I said I was sorry, okay? It won't happen again, I swear."  
  
"This has nothing to do with you," Don lied. "Nothing to do with--with...," he gestured helplessly, unable to say it, "... with what happened. Volunteering for this task force is good for my career, that's all." He zipped his bag up forcefully, checking his watch. His plane wasn't leaving for several more hours, but the faster he could get packed, the faster he could clear his head and put that weird fucking day behind him. He opened the closet door, hanging his garment bag from it, keeping his back to Charlie as he threw in his best work suits, taking just marginally more care with them.  
  
Charlie laughed bitterly. "Bullshit. You can't even say it. Forget it," he added quickly. There was nothing to say that they wouldn't regret later. If there was a later. What could Don possibly say to him? I'm leaving because my little brother is obviously a sick, twisted freak? I don't do guys and even if I did I'd never do my fucking brother? I'm leaving because you kissed me and that's fucked up, even for you? So this was it. This was good-bye. He swallowed hard. "Just--be careful, okay?" he said, voice hollow. "Be careful."  
  
"I will," Don said, voice softer now. His shoulders sagged a little because he knew how this must look to Charlie. He knew it must seem like he was running, and maybe he was, but he couldn't _think_ with Charlie around and he needed to. He turned his head toward the door slightly, putting as much promise as he could into his voice. "I'll be back, Charlie. I promise."  
  
"Yeah," he said, making a half-hearted attempt to sound like he believed him. He turned away and went into Don's kitchen, quickly locating paper and a pen. A few minutes later he had four names and phone numbers copied from his cell phone.   
  
He went back into the bedroom, crossing the threshold but careful not to actually approach Don. "These are four brilliant mathematicians in the DC area. I think they all have the clearance you'll need. In case, you know, you need anything." Because Don wouldn't ask him, not anymore. But math could still help, could help the victims, could help keep Don safe. He left the paper on the dresser and retreated back to the doorway. "I guess I'll see you in a few weeks."  
  
Don glanced at the dresser. He grabbed the list and looked at it, running his hands along the edges. Folding it carefully, he placed it in his shirt-pocket. Really, he didn't want to hurt Charlie, but that kiss was too much to handle. He zipped up his garment bag and faced Charlie for the first time, seeing the lines of his pain reflected in his body. "Thanks, buddy." Shouldering his bags, he stepped forward, waiting until Charlie retreated to step across the threshold. "You need a lift anywhere before I head to the airport?"  
  
"No. Thanks." Why prolong the agony? "Be careful," he said, because he couldn't bear to say good-bye and no other words would be welcome, even if he knew what to say, which he didn't.  
  
He turned and walked away, taking the stairs so his brother could use the elevator. It probably wouldn't be the very last time he'd see Don. He'd have to come back into town to move his stuff, say a better good-bye to their father. Charlie couldn't very well hide from that, not without making dad suspicious.  
  
He thought about just walking until he exhausted himself and then calling a cab to take him the rest of the way home, but his fingers were already itching for chalk, and now that he'd been away from it for a while he might have some fresh insight into P vs NP.  
  
Don watched from the door to his apartment a moment as Charlie escaped down the stairs. Sighing, he pulled his door shut behind him and checked it was locked before heading for the elevator. He took a deep breath, feeling a lightening in his chest, even with just the start of distance between him and his brother and he hated himself for it. But there was no other choice. That kiss, that short, soft, almost innocent kiss, had been staggering. It, and all the implications that came with it, had simply turned everything Don knew to be true on its ear and he was floundering.   
  
Almost on autopilot, Don climbed into his SUV and headed for the airport. Part of him wanted to start tearing into the problem right away because deep down he knew, even if Charlie didn't believe him, he would be back. His life was here now and he wasn't willing to give that up. Instead, he let the traffic on his drive and the white noise of the airport numb him until the thoughts faded into the background. Pulling the list of mathematicians from his pocket, Don ran his fingers lightly over his brother's sprawling yet somehow meticulous writing. A soft, fond smile pulled at his lips, but his plane was boarding and it had vanished by the time Don even realized it had been there.  
  
....  
  
The first thing he does when he gets home is pop a couple of Vivarin. He hasn't slept in nearly 36 hours. Couldn't sleep--not after kissing Don. And now he's tired, but he has work to do.  
  
The garage is full of his cognitive research but at the moment that subject no longer interests him. A breakthrough there had led to a kiss had led to Don leaving. He starts moving his boards into the solarium where they will be out of the way. Dad doesn't use that room much, and it's his house now. He does not think about the taste of Don's lips or the fact that Don didn't kiss him back.  
  
When the room is clear he brings more chalkboards out of storage and sets them up around the room. When he picks up the chalk it's almost like taking a hit and he does not think that this time Don won't be around to try and force him out of his precious bubble.  
  
He loses track of time, minutes, hours, days. His entire world has narrowed to a single unsolvable problem. P vs NP.   
  
When he pauses long enough to eat a few bites of a sandwich and pop another pill he realizes that Dad must have talked to Don at least once; he would have called after he arrived at the hotel because Don knows Dad worries. He doesn't know if they've talked since that first night but he does know that if they have, Don hasn't asked to speak with him.   
  
He picks up the chalk again.   
  
He hasn't slept in days, the lines on the board are blurry and he's not sure if it's due to sleep deprivation or simply illegible handwriting or a combination of the two. He's so close to a breakthrough he can taste it. But he can't focus and he's starting to take micronaps.   
  
He puts down the chalk and sets his alarm clock for three hours time. He wakes nearly eighteen hours later to discover that he's missed four classes and two days of office hours. It's a Thursday.  
  
When he returns to the chalkboards he discovers that they truly are indecipherable and his near breakthrough was only an illusion. He erases the blackboards, slides down the wall to the floor, puts his head on his arms and weeps.  
  
Friday he returns to class to discover that Larry and Amita have covered for him. This then, is his life. Larry, Amita, his father, his classes and his work. Sunday morning Megan calls to ask for Charlie's help with a case. He says yes.  
  
....  
  
Don opened the door to his hotel room, tossed the key on the desk and flopped on the bed with a groan. The muscles in his arms and legs ached pleasantly and the bruises he could feel brought a smile to his lips. When he'd volunteered, he'd had no idea what the task force would actually do, but he'd started to enjoy the feel of his holster constantly around his thighs and the simplicity of strapping on his tac gear. It reminded him powerfully of the time he'd spent working with Cooper, and that was comforting. These were things he knew, things he understood. He kept the list of mathematicians in his back pocket, literally and figuratively, but he was glad of the opportunity to use his own brain instead of relying on his brother's or his brother's friends'.   
  
_Charlie_. The thought of his brother made Don sit up, brow creasing. All the activity of the first week, all the getting to know his team and going out for victory celebrations afterwards, had kept him from having to think. He picked up his cell phone. No calls, no messages, nothing from Charlie. He'd called the house when he'd arrived to assure his Dad everything was fine, but he hadn't called since. He glanced at the clock, flipping his cell phone open, and paused. He couldn't talk to Charlie. Not yet. Not until he'd sorted some things out. So he called the house.  
  
"Donny! How are you? What's going on?" his Dad asked.  
  
Don ran through the first week, giving him the highlights, carefully editing out anything that might worry or concern him unduly. He paused when he was done, not sure he should but asking anyway, "So, everything quiet there? How's--how's Charlie?"  
  
"Charlie? He's um, he's fine."  
  
"Dad, what?"  
  
"Well, he's been working that crazy equation again, what's it called? That thing that's unsolvable."  
  
"P vs. NP?"  
  
"Yeah, that's it. I don't know what happened to upset him like that, but he slept for almost a whole day and I found him--crying on the floor of the solarium. He wouldn't tell me what was wrong."  
  
Don bit his lip to keep his sigh inside. "Where is he now?"  
  
"Megan called. She needed his help so he's been over at your office for a few hours now."  
  
Well that was something anyway. "Look, Dad, I have to go, but--tell Charlie... tell Charlie I called, okay? Okay. Bye."  
  
P vs. NP. Charlie only worked on that when he was in real pain, when things outside his head had gotten so bad he needed to retreat completely into the math. Don puttered around the room, changing into comfortable clothes and turning things over in his head. That pain was his fault, he'd caused it by running away, but there was no help for it now. He flipped through the channels absently, tossing the remote aside when he found a game he could tune out.   
  
Much as he didn't want to, Don turned his thoughts to the kiss. It had all happened so fast. They were in the garage, talking, Charlie was excited, showing him some breakthrough he had no hope of actually understanding, and he'd stepped close, patting his brother on the back for his accomplishment. Just at the wrong second, Charlie'd turned and the next thing Don knew Charlie's lips were on his. Stunned, Don had frozen and Charlie had immediately backed up, stammering an apology. He'd been flushed from his excitement and his eyes were big shining things, his lips pink where he was biting them...  
  
Don started out of his dose, his eyes needing a moment to refocus on his room. With quiet horror, he realized he was half hard under his sweats from thinking about that day. He shook his head, trying to clear it again. Very carefully, he pushed all thoughts about Charlie aside, thinking instead about his days with Cooper, about what kind of mischief the two of them could have gotten up to in a hotel room like this one as he pushed his sweats down over his hips.  
  
....  
  
Charlie wasn't really sure what to make of the fact that Don had apparently wanted him to know that he'd called. He obviously hadn't particularly wanted to talk to Charlie or he would have called his cell phone.   
  
He asked how Don was doing, more because his dad seemed to expect him to ask than from any real desire to know. Don wouldn't tell their dad how he was really doing anyway.   
  
It took a few days to solve the case. He tried not to think about his brother's absence but every once in a while something would remind him and he'd feel a sharp pain.  
  
....  
  
Activity with the task force slowed to a pleasant thrum and Don was spending more time in his suit now, which meant more time to think when he got back to his hotel. He kept turning that day over and over in his mind, trying to figure out how it had happened.   
  
He supposed Charlie really couldn't be blamed. He'd never had what anyone would consider a normal life, and it was easy enough to figure Charlie might confuse hero worship with sexual attraction. But that kiss, that had definitely been over the line and it worried Don. He worried what it meant for Charlie, he worried what it meant for him. Had Charlie figured out or heard something about his time in Fugitive Recovery? Was that why he'd thought it was okay? His relationship with Cooper was something he'd kept very quiet, for a number of reasons, not least of because if it got out... He wasn't gay. He knew that. There was in fact this pretty little thing on the task force who insisted on making eyes at him over her beer, and he couldn't say he wasn't interested. But they worked together, and she was local to DC. And he'd be going home soon.  
  
Sighing and turning off the TV, he slid under the covers. He could forgive Charlie for what had happened, and once he did, he knew things would get better. He drifted off to sleep easily.  
  
The alarm pulled him awake in the morning and he looked down, unsurprised to find his hand wrapped firmly around his cock, precome leaking from the tip. Planting images of red hair and blue eyes firmly in his mind, Don allowed himself to finish, flopping back on the bed to catch his breath before heading for the shower. The dreams were getting worse. All he remembered were snatches, but he couldn't shake the feeling he'd been dreaming about dark curls, darker eyes, and caramel skin again. But even those images were gone when his feet hit the floor and he started his day.  
  
....  
  
The days passed in a blur. He went from class to his office to home. He returned to his cognitive research and tried to nurture the small feeling of joy he got from getting into a groove and ignore the ache he felt whenever he returned to the project that had driven his brother away.  
  
....  
  
Normally, flying was something that relaxed Don. He adjusted easily to the pressure and the constant sound of the engines, and after weeks of almost constant activity, he should have been exhausted. And he was. But this time his fingers drummed nervously on his leg. He was going to see Charlie for the first time in almost a month. They hadn't spoken. Don just... he forgave him, he really did, but knowing he would hear nothing but pain in Charlie's voice was too much. He needed to look Charlie in the eyes and tell him it was okay. Nothing short of that would get them through this. He didn't sleep on the plane, not daring to dream.  
  
Once in his car, back on familiar ground, he debated between heading to his apartment and heading to the house. Dad was sure to have dinner planned for him and his stomach gave an encouraging rumble at the thought. Besides, going to his apartment would just delay the inevitable awkwardness of his first time laying eyes on his brother. So, home it was.   
  
He let himself into the house as always, tossing his bag near the door. "Dad?"  
  
"Donny? That you? Hey, welcome home!"  
  
Don chatted with his Dad a few moments, accepting a beer from the fridge and leaning on the counter as his dad puttered around the kitchen. It was small talk, really. He was saving the stories for around the dinner table, so he wouldn't have to repeat himself. "Where's Charlie?" he asked finally.  
  
"He's in the garage. Doing much better I think. He's been eating, sleeping, and going to classes anyway."  
  
Don just nodded, patting his father on the shoulder as he headed for the garage. He paused outside the door, staring at it for a long moment before pushing it open. Charlie's back was to him at a board and he was working with a small smile on his face. Leaning against the wall, Don broke the silence. "Hey, Charlie."  
  
His chalk snapped in half. He turned slowly and took an involuntary step backward, putting more distance between Don and himself. "Don. I--uh--I didn't realize you'd be back today." His dad must have mentioned it, but he'd become quite skilled at tuning out anything that had to do with his brother. It was just easier that way. Less painful. "How was your trip?"  
  
"It was good," Don replied, dropping his eyes to his hand as he brought his beer bottle up to his lips, taking a long swig. "I got a chance to do some things I wouldn't normally, so..." His eyes traveled along the boards. "Looks like you've been busy." He took a few steps forward, coming into the light and pretending not to notice how pale and wan Charlie looked. He opened his mouth and shut it again.   
  
Damn it. It shouldn't be this hard. "Listen," he started, "I--I had some time to think and--and I'm sorry." He looked into Charlie's eyes. "I'm sorry for leaving like that. I should have stayed, but..." he shook his head. "Anyway, I wanted to tell you it's okay. The--the kiss just threw me is all. But, I hope we can move on from here. We--it's taken a long time for us to get good at this brother thing and--and I don't want to lose that."  
  
"Yeah, me either," Charlie said softly. "I'm um, I'm glad you came back. I wasn't sure you would." He tried to offer a smile but made no move to get any closer to where Don was standing.  
  
"Yeah, I could tell," Don smiled. He moved a few small steps closer, unsure if Charlie would bolt. Not that he had anywhere to go. "We're going to get through this, okay? You and me." He paused, licking his lips and was about to say something else when their dad's voice floated to them. "Come on. Let's go get some dinner."  
  
Charlie followed Don out the door, keeping more space between them than he used to. Even if Don really had forgiven him, Charlie didn't trust himself. It was possible he'd never trust himself again. And he definitely wasn't letting himself think about all the emotions Don's return had stirred up.  
  
They made it through dinner okay, Don watching Charlie mostly pick at his food, but he seemed to at least listen to the stories he told. Afterwards, he helped his dad clean up and got ready to go, the exhaustion finally catching up with him. Charlie had retreated back into the garage and he wandered in to say goodnight.  
  
"Hey, buddy, I'm taking off." He looked Charlie over carefully, putting a soft hand on his shoulder. "It really will be okay, you'll see." He massaged the muscle briefly waiting for a soft "Good night" before letting go.  
  
He drove home on autopilot, glad to have gotten over the worst hurdle of being back and hopeful that over time, he and Charlie could work to rebuild any ground they'd lost. He dumped his bags by the door of his bedroom, stripping quickly and climbing into bed. It was good to be sleeping on his own mattress again and he figured sleep would come quickly and easily. It didn't.   
  
It didn't come the next night or the night after that either. Always it was the same. He'd start awake, panting, panicked, and unbearably hard, the fading images of Charlie from his dream filling him with quiet horror. Charlie had been keeping his distance still, but they'd seen each other, even worked together in that time. And he thought as things slowly started to feel at least somewhat normal on the surface again, the dreams would go away. But they got progressively worse. After a week, he was at his wit's end.  
  
It was more difficult having Don back in town than it had been when he'd been safely in DC. When he'd been gone he was at least out of sight if not out of mind. Temptation was harder to fight when he could actually do something about it.  
  
Charlie kept himself tightly wrapped, so controlled he privately wondered if he was going to have a meltdown. He saw Don but he never, ever initiated contact. He didn't call, he didn't drop by the office or the apartment, he didn't even send e-mail. He never touched him, never even stood close to him. That was the way it had to be.  
  
....  
  
Don didn't know which was worse, the dreams plaguing him or the way Charlie avoided him now. He understood the second part to be out of some sense Charlie had of self-preservation, afraid if he got too close he'd cross that line again, but it had been weeks and he _missed_ his brother. They'd never been what you would call touchy-feely, but part of him felt empty without those clever fingers and warm hands on his shoulder.  
  
On the other hand, it was maybe best for him that Charlie's sense of self-preservation was keeping him away. The dreams were getting more vivid and detailed as time went on. He'd started taking sleeping pills, but they didn't help, only made him feel groggy the rest of the day while he could still feel the release he'd given himself in the morning. So he'd stopped.  
  
Every time he did see Charlie now, a moment, a half-remembered dream image would threaten to float to him and he had to battle it back down. That part of him, whatever part it was, screamed in frustration every time Charlie backed away from him or refused to touch him. He was at war with himself and it was exhausting him. But what could he do? He couldn't leave; it would kill Charlie and it probably wouldn't help. At least the case they were working on was hard and he managed to pass off his increasing tiredness as related to that when their dad asked.  
  
Charlie finally said something the night Don showed up at CalSci at 2:00 am to check on his progress.   
  
"This isn't working."  
  
"What, the equation?" Don said, making a face. "I thought you said you were close."  
  
"I am. I didn't mean the equation. You look like shit, Don," he said bluntly.  
  
"It's just this case--"  
  
"No, it's not. It's been going on ever since you got back from DC. It's not the case, it's me." He sighed and turned away. "Maybe the break wasn't long enough," he said quietly. "Go home. Get some sleep and I'll call you when I have something."  
  
Cursing under his breath, Don balled his hands into fists. He was really getting tired of seeing Charlie's back all the time and anger, lust, and sleep deprivation ganged up on him at that moment. He was moving, acting before he truly realized it, grabbing Charlie's shoulder and turning him forcefully to face him. Charlie's eyes widened in shock and fear. Don felt him try to back up instinctively, but he'd always been stronger. He pulled, their mouths crushing against each other.  
  
Whether Charlie opened his mouth in shock or confusion, Don didn't care. Charlie's lips were soft, his mouth hot and wet against his, and he devoured it, claimed it, consumed it like a man finding food just as he's on the brink of starvation. He released Charlie slowly only as the need to come up for air pushed at him. "It is because of you, but not the way you think," Don whispered roughly, breath ghosting along the skin at Charlie's neck.  
  
Charlie stared at him, shocked and shaking. "Don this isn't--you said you didn't--" he was afraid to hope, afraid to trust and then have it snatched away. "You said it was wrong."  
  
"It is," Don replied, not letting Charlie go. "Everything about it is wrong. More than that, it's illegal. But ask me if I care," he growled.  
  
Without waiting for a response, he bent his head to Charlie's lips again, wrapping an arm around his waist and hauling their bodies close, all the points of contact making up for the weeks Charlie hadn't touched him.  
  
Charlie gave up trying to argue and instead kissed Don desperately, hungrily. He wanted to tell Don to take him to the apartment, but there was the equation and the case and--oh God, Don's taste, coffee and something spicy and--he held on as tightly as he dared.  
  
Don backed Charlie up until he hit something solid enough for him to lean on. He pushed a knee between Charlie's legs, bracing himself on hands placed to either side of his body as he pressed against him. Charlie's mouth was dizzying, drugging, and he needed more. The case pulled at him, but he knew both of them were too wrung out to make heads or tails of it. They needed diversion, release, but they couldn't get it here.  
  
"I think you should come back to my apartment with me," he whispered in Charlie's ear.  
  
"The case," he said weakly.  
  
Don nipped at his neck, simultaneously pushing his knee in a bit more. Charlie threw his head back and groaned.   
  
"You really think you can concentrate on that now?" Don asked, voice low and husky.  
  
Oh God, that voice. Right now he wasn't entirely sure he'd still be standing upright if Don wasn't supporting him. "You might have a point," he said, laughing shakily.  
  
Nodding, Don backed up slowly, pulling Charlie with him. He never let him get too far away as he helped him gather his things, keeping an arm around his shoulder as they walked through campus on the way to his SUV, grinning when he felt Charlie's arm snake tentatively around his wait under his jacket.  
  
Glancing around, Don pushed him against the side of his SUV, needing his mouth again before he could release him for the drive back. He ran his hands along Charlie's side, nipping at his ear. "Can't wait to get you back in my apartment, safely behind a locked door. You have no idea how crazy you've been making me."  
  
"Wasn't intentional," he said, shivering. "This time," he added with a cheeky grin. And he could tell that was going to cost him by the look on Don's face.   
  
Sure enough, the ride to the apartment was sheer torture. Don didn't say anything, just looked over at him from time to time, his gaze heated. His hand rubbed Charlie's inner thigh, inching up and very lightly brushing Charlie's crotch. Just enough to tease. Charlie closed his eyes and moaned. By the time they arrived his fingers were white on the armrest and the door handle and it was all he could do not to beg Don for _more_.  
  
It was all Don could do not to drag Charlie from his car bodily and haul him up the stairs. His blood was racing and his jeans were far too tight to be even in the vicinity of comfortable. Pulling Charlie against him, he urged him into the elevator, stabbing at the button for his floor viciously and fidgeting until the doors opened again. His hands were shaking with lust and adrenaline and he fumbled with his keys a moment before finally getting the door opened. Standing aside, he pulled Charlie through, keeping a hand on his neck as he pushed the door shut behind him, locking it with a quick flip of his wrist. Without a word, he pulled Charlie back, shoving him against the smooth wood, pressing him to the surface and claiming his lips again. His hands pulled at Charlie's shirt, needing to feel his warm skin under them. Blunt fingers raked along Charlie's sides, making him squirm and shudder in his arms.  
  
"Don!" His brother's name came out as a ragged pant, needy and desperate. And then he couldn't do anything but moan because Don's tongue was plundering his mouth and he had his knee between Charlie's legs. He tugged impatiently on Don's shirt, grateful when Don lifted it over his head but already missing the feel of those too clever hands. He whimpered and shook, rubbing himself frantically against Don's knee as his fingers fumbled with his belt buckle.  
  
Shoving his hands under Charlie's shirt, Don urged his arms over his head, yanking the obstructing fabric off at last, pressing skin to skin. Before Charlie could lower his hands, place them on his skin, he captured them in a strong grip and forced them back against the door with a thump. He held him there, feeling the tendons shift under his fingers as his other hand caressed Charlie's neck. Bending his head, he followed the path his fingers had taken, nipping at Charlie's skin, his jaw, nibbling on his bottom lip. "I should take you right here," he purred, lips just brushing Charlie's skin. He shoved his knee up between Charlie's legs, winning a squeak and a moan. "Turn you around and fuck you against the door. Make you beg for my hands and mouth. Wait until you're begging, whimpering until I give you what you so fucking desperately need." His free hand caressed Charlie's chest as he spoke, thumb circling a nipple. Claiming Charlie's mouth again, Don swallowed his cries as he sought ever-increasing amounts of friction.  
  
Charlie squirmed in Don's grasp, arching and pushing to try and get as much contact as possible. His entire body was on fire with pleasure and he desperately wanted out of his pants. It wasn't fair that Don was still coherent enough to describe exquisite torture while Charlie could only think "yes" and "Don" and "God" and "more" and he couldn't speak at all. The only thing he seemed to be capable of at the moment was embarrassingly needy whimpers.  
  
It was tempting to make good on his words, turn Charlie around or bend him over the nearest flat surface, but underneath the lust pounding at his brain, he was still Don, he was still Charlie's big brother and wouldn't dream of hurting him that way. The aftermath would be strange enough without Charlie being incapable of walking, too. Still, it wasn't enough to make him back up.   
  
Moving his free hand from Charlie's chest, Don dropped it to his belt, deftly undoing Charlie's jeans and letting them fall off his narrow hips. He pulled Charlie's boxers down quickly, making him wince a little. Kissing him in apology, Don wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking firmly.  
  
Charlie moaned, his hips jerking involuntarily. "Don," he whispered, his tone pleading, begging. He dropped his head to Don's shoulder and bit gently.  
  
"Oh fuck," Don groaned, letting Charlie's wrists go and his hands drop to his shoulders. Stroking steadily, he managed to coordinate himself enough to undo his own jeans, pushing them and his boxers down with a shaking hand. He knew he was going to come in an embarrassingly short time once Charlie put his hands on him, but he needed it so badly he figured he could nurse his pride later. Charlie was heavy, thick in his hand, a drop of precome leaking from the tip and Don sped up his movements.  
  
Charlie immediately wrapped a hand around Don's cock, too far gone to try and learn the weight and texture or even to have any finesse. His hand was shaking, he was already so close himself. "Don!"  
  
"Fuck, Charlie!" Don cried, bucking into the warmth of that palm, relief coursing through his veins. His hips snapped forward, fucking his hand, matching pace with the nearly frantic strokes along Charlie's skin. He was so fucking close, but he was determined to make Charlie come first. "Come on," he grunted. "Do it. Come for me."  
  
That was all it took. Don's voice and a particularly firm stroke and he was coming, keening with pleasure.  
  
Shaking, shuddering, Don came, a low indistinct sound working out of his throat. As the sensations subsided, he collapsed against Charlie's body, leaning his head on the door and panting against his skin. Once his breathing had slowed, he started to back up, realizing just in time that his legs were still trapped by his jeans. He stepped out of his shoes, kicking the material off his legs and then looking back up at Charlie. "Still with me, buddy?"  
  
"Yeah. Still with you." He was suddenly afraid to meet Don's gaze, afraid that now that it was over Don would change his mind. The edge was off, Don's mind wouldn't be clouded with lust or need.  
  
Nodding, Don caressed Charlie's skin idly. He was starting to shiver a little in the cool room without the heat of the lust burning through him or Charlie's body next to his. He deliberately did _not_ think about Charlie as his brother, needing to get through the next few moments without any sign of his low-level freak out. He'd work on figuring out what the hell had just happened in a minute. Instead, he bent down, helping Charlie free himself from his shoes and pants, kicking them aside to join his own in a lump. "Come on, let's get under the covers. It's freezing in here."  
  
He kept his arm around Charlie's waist as they crossed the small apartment, ready to support him if his legs decided to rebel. Pulling the covers back, he got Charlie settled before climbing in himself, turning and propping himself up on an elbow to look at Charlie's face. His fingers toyed with the skin near Charlie's shoulder. "So, um... now what?"  
  
Charlie laughed, wincing at the slight edge of hysteria in his voice. "I have no idea. I never thought this could happen so I never thought about after." He swallowed and looked away before making himself look Don in the eye. "What do you want to have happen next? Do you want to pursue this? Was it a one shot thing?"  
  
Don let his fingers trail over Charlie's skin as he considered his reply. He hadn't felt this good in a long time, but the consequences of pursuing this... it was dangerous. But maybe it was just as dangerous to not do this. Shaking his head a little, he smiled. "It wasn't a one shot thing. It--it was... amazing. Odd, dangerous, but amazing." He shifted closer to Charlie.  
  
"You know that this whole thing--it's complicated. But I can't deny how much I want you, love you," he said softly. "Without you, without even the small contact we had before, I was falling apart. So you tell me, Charlie, is this really what you want? Truly? Because I'm willing to try."  
  
Charlie took a deep breath. "Truly? I want to be with you. I know we can't be open, can't ever be open. But I want to be with you. Want to be able to tell you that I love you and want you and I want that to be okay. I want to kiss you and yes, have sex with you. That's what I want," he said quietly.  
  
A grin pulled at Don's mouth and he let it spread across his face. "Charlie," he whispered, brushing the hair off his face. "It's definitely okay. It's more than okay. Because I love you, too. It--it might be a little hard for me, at first, but I want this. And I need you to believe that, I need you to know it." He bent his head, capturing Charlie's lips in a soft, languid kiss, really tasting him for the first time, now the consuming desperation was gone. Charlie was sweet, soft, and he could almost feel the craving for more of him settle in his blood.  
  
"I always knew you loved me," Charlie murmured. "It's the _in_ love part I was never sure about." He licked gently at Don's lips, savoring the taste.  
  
"Trust me, I didn't know I was in love with you until not that long ago. I--I've been having dreams about you. It's why I haven't been sleeping," Don admitted, still caressing Charlie's skin. "But I know now. I'm still working on accepting it, so, be patient with me, okay?" He paused, not sure if he should ask, but Charlie had said he wanted to have sex. "Have-have you had sex with a man before Charlie?"  
  
"No," Charlie said softly. "I've never really wanted anyone else the way I want you. Ever." He wondered if Don heard what he wasn't saying.  
  
"You mean... not with anyone?" Don pulled back to look his brother square in the face. He was suddenly glad he had restrained himself a little. He would most definitely have hurt him if he'd fucked him against the door. "And-and you're sure? You want to, with me?"  
  
"I'm sure," he said softly, his voice as firm as he could make it. "I'm sure," he said again, stroking Don's face lightly.  
  
Don nuzzled in to the soft caress. He was touched, weirdly honored that he was the first, that Charlie had saved himself for a day that might never have come, and that he was likely the last, if he had anything to say about it. He stroked a finger down Charlie's cheek, tipping his head back and kissing him. "I want to make love to you," Don murmured, "give you the attention you deserve. But you have to promise me, if it's too much or if you want to stop you'll say something. Okay?"  
  
Charlie looked at him wide-eyed and nodded. "I promise," he said softly. He was nervous but excited, his body already trembling slightly. "Go slow?"  
  
"Believe me, I have no intention of rushing any part of this," Don purred, voice low and deep. He leaned down, kissing Charlie, long and firm, letting his tongue explore, searching and analyzing new tastes and textures. His hand slid down Charlie's body to rest on his hip, letting the warmth seep into the muscle and bone.  
  
Charlie was more hesitant but he quickly got over his initial reluctance. He wanted to learn Don's taste, the feel of his mouth. He wanted to know how to give Don pleasure, what would make him gasp and moan.  
  
The kiss quickly seared all coherent thought from Don's brain and he had to remind himself to breathe. Pulling back a little, he kissed Charlie's jaw and neck, lavishing attention on the long, elegant column, searching for those spots that'd make his eyes roll back in pleasure and his name drip from those sinful lips. He bit down gently on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, soothing immediately with his tongue and allowing his hand to slip lower on Charlie's leg, thumb just caressing his inner thigh.  
  
Charlie closed his eyes briefly, arching into Don's touch. "Oh God, Don. Feels so good," he whispered.  
  
"You are so amazing," Don murmured into his skin, starting to work his way down Charlie's chest. He circled a nipple with his tongue, teasing it into a hard peak before moving on to the other and repeating the action. His hand moved to tease more directly at Charlie's thigh, blunt fingers dragging lightly along the sensitive skin, over and over again.  
  
"You're amazing," Charlie countered. Charlie shuddered and whimpered, his hands moving tentatively across Don's skin. He'd never allowed himself to imagine that he'd be given this freedom, this access. "What do you like?" he asked softly.  
  
"Me?" Don grinned, shifting to put both hands on Charlie's skin, covering him partially with his body. "I like a little of this, a little of that. I like lips and hands, like to be overloaded on touch." His fingers traced patterns in to Charlie's skin, teasing at the hairs that led down his body and trailed lightly over Charlie's length, just kissing it with their touch before he shifted again, letting his tongue follow suit and licking experimentally at the head.  
  
Charlie shivered and let his legs part a little more. He tried to do as Don suggested, kissing Don's skin, caressing with his fingertips. His hands settled in the small of Don's back. "May I?" he asked quietly.  
  
He tried to hold it back, but the grin spread across his face. Charlie was really too sweet. Don lifted his head, kissing Charlie firmly. "You don't have to ask, Charlie," he whispered, cupping his face reassuringly. "Just relax. I promise I'll tell you if you go too far, okay?"  
  
"Okay," Charlie said, smiling. He let his hand dip below the waistline, caressing and gently squeezing Don's ass.  
  
Don smiled back, pushing back into Charlie's hand as he returned to his task, licking delicately at the length of Charlie's cock, tongue just swirling around the head.  
  
Charlie whimpered and struggled to keep his hips still. "Don," he whispered, voice filled with awe.  
  
Those soft whimpers and the sound of his name went directly to Don's cock and he shivered a little, the warmth of Charlie's hand on his ass soothing him. He figured Charlie had never let anyone do this for him, either, so he moved slowly, tonguing the head, the sensitive ridge and tracing each vein with his tongue before swallowing him a bit at a time and sucking hard.  
  
"Oh God, Don," Charlie whispered. It felt unbelievably, almost unbearably, good. Already his body felt boneless, just warm and kind of melty and _good_.  
  
He took his time, licking and sucking, setting a languid pace, learning everything he could about Charlie--the way he felt in his mouth, the way he tasted, the way just the right amount of pressure on just the right spot would make him gasp and quiver. Don let his hands roam, running through the hairs on Charlie's legs, teasing the hairs on his stomach, caressing the smooth skin. Charlie's muscles started to go taut under his hands and with one last long, hard suck, he lifted his head, crawling up Charlie's body to kiss him, letting him taste himself on Don's tongue.  
  
Charlie wrapped his arms around Don and kissed him deeply. The taste was different now, more bitter, but not unpleasant. In fact, he could get addicted to this taste, this mix of Don and himself.  
  
Stroking his hand down Charlie's cheek and throat, Don broke the kiss slowly, looking into his brother's eyes. He kept his hand on Charlie's chest, over his heart, as he leaned over to the nightstand, digging out a bottle of lubricant and a condom. He settled between Charlie's legs, kissing his skin as he slicked his fingers. Spreading his legs gently, he lifted his head to look Charlie in the eyes. "This is going to feel a little odd. I'm going to go slow. Just do your best to relax."  
  
Charlie nodded and fought the instinct to tense at Don's words. It would be okay. This was Don who would never, ever hurt him. "Okay," he said softly.  
  
He dropped a hand between Charlie's legs, teasing at the cleft of his ass with one over-slicked finger before slipping in, pressing against his entrance, and pressing inside. Don felt the resistance and stilled, waiting for Charlie's body to adjust before pushing again, doing a quick stroke-slide in and out before placing a second finger next to the first. He repeated the process, needing to wait just a little longer before Charlie admitted him, and this time, Don pushed deep, searching out his prostate and grinning a little when he felt Charlie melt into the mattress in pleasure. One more finger, one more repeat of the process and Charlie was open, ready, willing, quivering for him, just for him, and the lust accompanying that thought nearly floored him.   
  
Slicking his cock quickly, not daring to spend too much time on the task, he positioned himself, nudging at Charlie's entrance at first and then slowly, achingly slowly, rolled his hips, pushing until he was buried deep inside his brother.  
  
He'd never known it was even possible to feel this much pleasure--or this connected to another human being. He kissed Don tenderly, moving in time with his brother's rhythm. He whispered his name into Don's shoulder, licking at the skin at the crook of his neck.  
  
"God, Charlie," Don groaned. He tried to keep his pace slow, easy, but Charlie was tight, hot around him and restraint was nearly impossible. Shifting, he pushed a little harder and faster, feeling the coil tighten in his spine.  
  
Charlie whimpered and bit down on the juncture between Don's neck and shoulder. He must have bitten a little too hard because he heard Don inhale sharply. "Sorry," he murmured, immediately trying to soothe the injured flesh with his tongue.  
  
He thought about trying to explain he hadn't minded the sharp bite, but the words were beyond him just then. Instead, he nipped at Charlie's jaw until his head turned and then he claimed his lips in a passionate kiss. Don pushed into him, the throbbing need growing in his spine. Working a hand between them, he stroked Charlie's cock in time with his increasingly hard and fast thrusts, wanting him to know how this felt, wanting to give him as much experience and pleasure as he could.  
  
Charlie moaned and held on tightly. He could feel that wonderful tension, that pressure in the base of his spine. "Don!" he gasped, plea and promise and warning.  
  
"Go ahead, Charlie," Don purred. "Wanna feel you come for me."  
  
The voice and the sensations, they were just too much. He all but screamed Don's name as he came, the world greying at the edges.  
  
Charlie clenched around him and Don pushed once more into him, holding deep and shuddering through his own release. He barely caught himself on his forearms before collapsing on top of Charlie, panting hard. "Fuck that felt good," he gasped.  
  
"That's an understatement," Charlie groaned. He held Don close, kissing his forehead. He lay still, trying to recover before finally whispering, "Thank you."  
  
Don groaned as he finally slipped from his brother's body, stretching out next to him and gathering him in his arms. "You're welcome," he whispered, kissing his temple. He sighed in contentment, ready to welcome his first good night's sleep in a long time. "You're going to be here when I wake up, right?"  
  
"Of course I am," Charlie said, surprised. "Where else would I be?"  
  
Don looked down a little shyly. "I don't know. I just--dealing with these dreams, they'd be so real, and when I'd wake up, you'd be gone." His fingers trailed along Charlie's skin. "Don't ever want to be without you again."  
  
"I'm not going anywhere," Charlie said firmly. "Not until you tell me to go."  
  
Don smiled, kissing him firmly. "Yeah, that's never going to happen," he smirked, sighing into the feel of his brother's body pressed against his. "I love you," he murmured, sleep already pulling at him.  
  
"I love you, too." He snuggled into Don's arms as much as he could. "Want to spend the rest of my life like this," he said softly.  
  
"Me too, buddy. Me too." He kissed Charlie's cheek, finally unable to hold his eyes open any longer, drifting off into sleep. He did not dream.


End file.
